


Sky Full of Stars

by puffvisionary



Category: SHINee
Genre: Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid Fic, Kid Lee Taemin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffvisionary/pseuds/puffvisionary
Summary: Jinki and Kibum adopt a son. A beautiful, broken little boy who would bring them heartbreak and joy like they have never imagined before. This is a story of how their little family began, struggled, and thrived.
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Sky Full of Stars

The moment Kibum sees the footage of the investigation conducted by a certain media platform on a dingy orphanage just outside of Gwangju, he knows that he’s going to drop everything and jump on the next plane to head right to that blasted hellhole. He tugs on Jinki’s arm to get his attention, pointing at the footage still playing on TV, and the hardening of Jinki’s jaw is enough of an indication that he, too, would pull the same stunt Kibum is about to pull.

So within the next few days, they proceed to take care of things; call in sick, book a flight, book a hotel, and spend evenings doing research. Jinki calls in a few favors, searching for a decent lawyer with the right price that they can consult with, while Kibum studies the paperwork necessary for the process.

The nights go by fast, and before long, the day before they’re supposed to fly out to Gwangju comes. At the end of it, Jinki comes forward to shake his husband’s shoulder, telling him how late it already is and coaxes him to go to sleep. Kibum drags his half-closed eyes away from his iPad and nods, fighting the residual restlessness in order to let himself rest.

None of them get a wink of sleep that night.

*

Gwangju is tall and grey, intimidating instead of inviting, and the further away they get from the center of the city, the dimmer it feels. Kibum sits quietly on the passenger seat of their rented car, while Jinki is drumming his fingers to the rhythm of the John Legend’s song playing from the radio. None of them say anything, but both of them understand. They understand the depth of the situation. They understand what they’re about to go through.

None too quickly, they arrive at the parking lot of the orphanage. It’s surprisingly quiet, unlike what Kibum predicted. He thought that, with the investigation going viral, people would be fighting tooth and nail to get here and get the children out of this place. It turns out, however, that they’re not part of some sudden movement comprising of couples who want to house the children ASAP.

Maybe they will come, eventually. Hopefully.

They meet up with the social worker they previously contacted in the hallway of the eerily quiet orphanage. Kibum reaches for Jinki’s arm as they go through the greetings and follows her lead towards the office.

“You came at the right time,” she informs them, her voice tight and painfully formal, like she’s trying to hold back her emotions. Kibum wonders what she’s fretting about. “After the investigation is released to the public, we have received attention and warning from the government. They want to ‘fix’ this as soon as possible, and the most effective way of preventing this orphanage from getting closed down is to quicken the adoption processes and promote widely.”

“How long does it usually take?” Jinki asks, voice raspy from not being used for so long. Kibum tightens his hold in his arm.

“Months,” she answers, a close-lipped, apologetic smile on her face as she opens the door for them. “Years. It depends. Bureaucracy is always complicated, but it’s a natural selection process, as well. Some of the potential parents are eager to start, but quickly lost their motivation to actually finish.” She gestures at them to take a seat in front of the wooden table, filled with piles of unorganized papers.

“We hired a lawyer. That should make things easier, right?” Kibum asks urgently, taking in the way the social worker—Cho Eunkyung, as it says on her nametag—finally pauses to take a proper look on Jinki and Kibum.

“Of course,” she assures, her smile a little looser. Her eyes trail over Kibum’s overall appearance, and Kibum has a feeling she’s perhaps calculating their wealth in her head. He isn’t sure whether his Gucci coat and Jinki’s Armani pants are helping or hurting the case more. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be calling for the Head. You may wait here.”

With that, she’s gone, and Kibum and Jinki are left alone in the room. The silence settles, but it gets heavier and heavier by the second, so Jinki clears his throat.

“Do you have any specific… criteria in mind?” he asks uncertainly. They’ve talked about this, of course, countless times. They’ve made their minds to adopt, soon, but haven’t had the chance to actually manifest the idea. They’ve also talked about the child they want to bring home—a boy or a girl, how many, how old—but they never actually made a decision.

“No,” Kibum answers, as he always does. “I’m fine with any. I’ll trust my gut feeling.”

“We still need to set a parameter,” Jinki chides, placing a hand on Kibum’s thigh. Kibum relaxes a little.

“I suppose, yeah,” Kibum worries on his bottom lip, thinking hard on how he wants his child to be. He comes up short, his brain focusing on nothing else but the memory of the children rocking back and forth, banging their heads against their cribs in an attempt to stop themselves from crying, because they know no one is going to come sooth them even if they do. “Just… maybe the young ones?”

“Zero to five?” Jinki confirms. Kibum nods. “Okay.”

Kibum closes his eyes and turns his head to press his forehead against Jinki’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay.”

*

Their first meeting is concluded within three hours. They were asked extensively on their reasons to adopt, their financial status, their ‘dream child’. Kibum dislikes the phrase extensively, mostly because it objectifies the children, instead of humanize them and make them sound special. He and Jinki are going through emotional turmoil, but both of them manage to keep a decently cheery façade, worried that they’ll come off as cold and unwelcoming otherwise.

So they head back to the hotel for the night before taking off to Seoul first thing in the morning.

Their days continue on, filled with brimming anticipation and growing restlessness. They begin the tedious work of completing the first round of paperwork.

*

The months after are filled with the grueling additional work. They’re attending orientation, getting medical check-ups, background check-ups, trainings, interviews, and more. They’re required to go to parenting classes, provide income statements that are infuriatingly detailed, write a million other statements, go through a home visit and countless more interviews, and finally collect references from their family, friends, co-workers, and bosses. It’s a long, expensive, and exhausting process, despite the reassurances that the process they’re going through is actually much faster and more efficient than normal.

Kibum is getting tired, but one look at Jinki’s wistful face as an ad for a family theme park runs on TV is enough to get him to stand back up.

Six months after their first visit, Jinki gets an e-mail. It’s from the agency, and to it, more than ten pictures and one video are attached. They’re pictures of their match: a skinny, sickly-looking boy called Lee Taemin. Kibum breaks down in tears as they watch the video. The boy, Taemin, is looking at the camera with a look of intense nervousness and fear. He introduces himself with such a small voice that Jinki has to plug in a headset and push the volume all the way up.

They watch the short video—barely two minutes—of Taemin’s timid greeting and intro over and over. Jinki can’t seem to stop replaying it, and Kibum can’t seem to stop watching, taking notes of a new detail each time they repeat the footage.

That evening, Kibum takes all of the pictures Jinki downloaded, printed them out, and put them on his bedside table. He stares at them each night before he goes to sleep, taking in his soon-to-be son’s wide eyes, button-like nose, pouty lips, rounded cheeks, and bruised forehead. Jinki doesn’t comment on this new habit, so Kibum doesn’t make a peep when he catches Jinki replaying the video of Taemin continuously, even as he’s knee-deep in his work.

*

Five weeks after they got the pictures—and more snips of information after—they’re called to fly back to Gwangju to meet their child. Kibum’s heart is leaping up to his throat as they step out of the airport and into the rented car. Jinki drives like a maniac, this time, but there’s a smile on his face that Kibum has never seen before. It’s a giddy, affectionate sort of smile, filled with nervousness and eagerness. It’s similar to the one he wears on their wedding day, but it’s slightly more reserved, more melancholic. More vulnerable.

As soon as they arrive at the dingy old building Kibum hates—mostly because he has a hard time accepting the fact that Taemin is living in a place like this—they rush inside, making it clear to the everyone they encountered that they’re impatient by gliding through the greetings and formalities quickly. Sensing their restlessness, the woman in charge of the orphanage finally cuts their conversation short and instructs them to follow her.

Kibum and Jinki are taken to another room, then. It’s significantly smaller and somewhat dingier than the office, with no one but a small, timid three year old boy sitting on one of the sofas, looking at them with alarm in his eyes. Kibum’s legs almost give out from under him as he takes a sight of Taemin, and it’s only due to Jinki’s quick, smooth reflex that he’s managed to stay upright.

“This is Lee Taemin,” the woman, Shin Yuhee, introduces, making her way to Taemin and taking a seat next to him. Taemin scoots away a little, then, though his eyes never leave Kibum and Jinki as they take their seats opposite him. “He’s three and a half, and small for his age. He’s healthy enough, as we mentioned previously, no trace of genetic abnormalities or inherited diseases. Taemin, say hi,” she adds to the boy, who lifts his right hand meekly, while he sucks on the thumb of the left one.

“Hi,” he whispers, voice cracking just so. Kibum chokes on his breath, braving himself to take a step forward and kneels in front of Taemin. Taemin doesn’t flinch away, but his eyes are getting wider the closer Kibum gets to him.

“Can we?” Jinki asks in a low voice. Yuhee nods and excuses herself, saying something about taking care of the paperwork and meeting Jinki and Kibum’s lawyer outside. Jinki immediately sets to take his place next to Taemin, then, noting the way the boy is shifting slightly closer with a surge of inexplicable emotions.

“Hi, Taemin,” Kibum greets, a shaky but cheery smile on his face. “I’m Kibum, and this is Jinki.” Taemin nods, but he doesn’t take the thumb out of his mouth. Kibum reaches forward to stroke his cheek, the movement incredibly delicate, as if Taemin would break if he puts in any force at all. “What happened to your forehead, baby?” he asks, hand moving up to touch Taemin’s forehead, careful not to reach the bluish bruise on it.

Taemin doesn’t answer with words, but he bangs his head forward against the air repeatedly, mimicking what happened. Kibum swallows and looks up to Jinki, who places a hand on Taemin’s small, bony back. He’s warm. He’s very warm, and very real, and smells like a baby, still. Kibum wants to hold him so bad it hurts.

“Does it hurt?” Jinki asks, voice gentle as always. Kibum’s heart grows at the sound of his husband’s affectionate tone, and he smiles up at Jinki, who is looking at Taemin almost serenely. Taemin shakes his head. “Are you hungry?” he asks again, and Taemin drops his head, breaking the eye contact.

Despite the lack of answer, Jinki reaches for the paper bag filled with groceries they bought on the way. Pulling out a carton of banana milk and a piece of vanilla cake with generous whipped cream and fresh berries, he offers them to Taemin, who looks up quickly, obvious longing in his eyes.

Taemin doesn’t reach for it, so Jinki plucks the straw in and holds it close to Taemin’s occupied mouth. Kibum gently pulls the hand away from the boy’s mouth, and Jinki holds the carton closer. After a few seconds of internal debate, Taemin closes his lips around the straw and begins to suck on it quickly.

“There you go,” Kibum grins, relief flooding his being with such force that he can’t help but release a shaky breath. Jinki grins, too, wide and unrestrained, as he continues to hold the carton for Taemin because the boy makes no move to take it from him. Kibum wonders if the boy is waiting for them to take the carton away, because he doesn’t reach for it, and instead focusing on finishing it as quickly as he could. His heart aches at the thought.

While Jinki continues to rub his back and watches him gulp down the milk greedily, Kibum takes the cake box from Jinki’s lap and stands, moving to take a seat next to Taemin. Taemin’s eyes flicker to him at the movement, but he doesn’t pause on the sucking. It’s only when the carton is completely empty that he finally stops, looking up at Jinki with a small, shy smile that Jinki returns enthusiastically.

“Here, baby, scoot back a little,” Kibum pushes Taemin’s shoulder gently, and Taemin obliges, scooting back and folding his legs to rest them on the sofa completely. His sharp eyes never leave Kibum as the latter scoops the cake with a spoon, and he blinks when Kibum holds the spoonful of cake in front of his mouth. “Say ‘ah’ for me, baby?”

Taemin obliges, opening his mouth wide to accept the cake. His eyes light up immediately as the combined flavor of the cake and cream explodes in his mouth. He smiles, and just like that, the both of them fall hopelessly in love with him.

“He’s very pretty,” Jinki admires, looking at Taemin like he’s the most precious thing on Earth, despite the way-too-big, old-looking clothes, the scrapped knees, the bruised forehead, the unhealthy tone of his skin, and the slightly gaunt look in his eyes. Kibum stares at his husband, then at the boy happily chewing between them, and fights back the burn in his eyes.

Once the cake is finished—surprisingly quick, Kibum thinks, especially considering the size of Taemin’s mouth—they move to the floor to play with the pile of banged-up toys on one corner of the room. Taemin looks so innocently happy at the sight of the ugly toys, and Kibum wonders if he has any at all. The possibility that this little boy might have zero toys is way too painful for Kibum to even consider, so he pushes that thought far back.

They spend the whole day playing and tiring Taemin out. Their lawyer comes in with Shin just as Taemin yawns widely and begins to rock, back and forth, while his thumb is lodged back into his mouth.

“Why, uh, why is he doing that?” Jinki asks, watching as Taemin rests against the side of the sofa and continues to rock himself. His fingers are twitching from the need to hold the boy, but he’s not sure his actions are welcome. Kibum looks like he has the same question cooking in his head.

“He’s rocking himself to sleep,” their lawyer, Shim Changmin, answers in a low voice. “It’s a form of self-soothing behavior. Children living in orphanages—especially ones with too little staff and too many children—often don’t have anyone to comfort them, so they find a way to comfort themselves. They rock their body, bang their head against hard surfaces, suck on their thumb, anything to take their minds off the loneliness.” The smile Changmin gives them is sad and painful, and Kibum bites back the bile rising in his throat. He reaches for the boy, taking him into his arm.

Taemin stirs, looking at him with confusion, but Kibum simply hugs him tighter, pressing their chests together and resting Taemin’s head on the crook of his neck. He sways side to side, standing near the far end of the sofa as the other adults in the room begin to talk. Taemin’s breathing is getting slower and deeper, his body getting warmer and more lax in Kibum’s hold, and Kibum can already feel the physical pain that he’s going to go through when it’s time to say goodbye.

*

They fly back to Seoul the next day, because Jinki has an important conference where he’s supposed to be the speaker. They agree to not head to the orphanage before they fly home, because neither of them are too keen on the idea of spending half an hour with Taemin and then having to say goodbye to him while he’s awake. Kibum imagines the possible tears and the sad eyes, and finds that he couldn’t possibly handle any of those.

So they head back to reality and face the final chapter of their journey.

As it turns out, the finalizing of the adoption is not an easy process. They have to wait three months while the agency tracks Taemin’s biological parents in order to get them to sign the termination of parental rights contract. Luckily, once they managed to find the woman who is supposed to be Taemin’s mom—a ‘popular’ sex worker who works in a gritty, shady area filled with cheap, tacky clubs and suspicious-looking massage shops—it’s easy enough to get her to sign the contract. She confessed to them, in front of the judge, that her boyfriends had never liked her son—some even went so far as to beat little Taemin up—and thus drove her into sending the boy to an orphanage.

Jinki is this close to punching the woman in the throat, but Kibum’s hand on his arm stops him. He looks to the side, watching the tears of rage spill down the sides of his husband’s reddening face, and stops. “It’s gonna be okay,” he tells Kibum, teeth gritting in an attempt to keep the aggressiveness under control. “Taemin’s going to be ours. It’s gonna be okay.”

Just like that, the judge declares the termination, and the woman walks out of the room without a single backward glance.

*

Seoul is bright today. Bright and beautiful and warm. Spring is coming, waltzing in gently with its warmth and the faintest hint of sunlight. The season is beautiful and Seoul is beautiful and the whole world is beautiful, but Jinki and Kibum’s brand new son beats them all with zero effort.

Lee Taemin clutches on both Jinki and Kibum’s hands as they guide him inside. His eyes are wide and more than a little bit scared as he takes in his new surroundings. Jinki sends his husband a nervous look, but Kibum is too busy staring down at their son.

“Do you want to see your room, baby?” he asks as gently as he could. His voice still manages to startle Taemin, though, and the boy flinches in surprise, his intense concentration broken. Instead of pulling away, however, the boy nods and presses himself slightly closer against Kibum’s leg. Kibum picks him up. “Let’s go see your room.”

Jinki follows them quietly, watching as Kibum puts the boy down in the middle of the room before walking away, stopping next to where Jinki is—near the doorframe—to watch their son explore his new space. Taemin looks overwhelmed by the toys, the books, the bed, the colors. His eyes move so quickly around, as if trying to take everything in all at once. His hands are shaking as he touches every piece of furniture, disbelief marring his tiny face.

“For me?” Taemin asks, looking at them with blinding hope in his eyes. Jinki grins and nods, giving him two thumbs up. Taemin looks at them a little longer, before his smile widens slightly and he returns the thumbs up. Kibum laughs heartily.

They let Taemin wander around his bedroom for a little longer, watching him climb his way to the bed, touch the toy cars, crawl in and out of the small tent in the corner, run his fingers through the curtains that covers the glass doors, press his face against the window to look at the backyard, and just generally taking in every single detail of his new room. It’s not until both Jinki and Kibum step inside and let the door close behind them that Taemin’s calm veneer begins to crack.

At first it was something small, almost unnoticeable; the look on his eyes become wild and panicked as he stares at Kibum and Jinki, then his shaking hands become even shakier, so much that they’re closer to a tremor, and then slowly, gradually, the shaking spreads further to his entire body.

Kibum frowns, sharing a glance with Jinki who seems equally at loss of what to do. He stands slowly, trying to make his movements as unthreatening as possible, but Taemin doesn’t seem calmed. Kibum crouches down, opening his arms, but Taemin shakes his head and takes large steps back. He stumbles when his foot catches on one of his toy cars, and falls with a loud thud. Both Jinki and Kibum flinch at the fall, but it only serves to make Taemin even more scared. The boy scoots back until his back hits the wall before curling up into a tiny ball, shaking so hard he almost looks like he’s having a seizure.

“Taemin,” Kibum calls, as softly as he could. “Sweetheart, baby, we’re not going to hurt you. I promise.” He feels at loss of what to do; the helplessness is bitter at the back of his throat, joining the bile that threatens to rise at the thought of what might have caused this reaction in his child. “I promise, sweetheart, you’re safe here. You’re safe.”

Jinki, too, is at loss for words. He thinks about the heartless woman who let her boyfriends beat her young son, of the drunken scums who yelled filthy words and smack a helpless little boy around, of the people in the orphanage who were so overwhelmed they could not give each and every child the attention they needed. He thinks about the way Taemin rocked himself to sleep, the way he clutches at his and Kibum’s hands with a death grip each time—as if they’re going to leave and never come back, the way the bruises on his forehead seemed to get darker each time they see him, the way he seemed heartbreakingly excited about the broken toys in the Orphanage Head’s office, the way he’s painfully careful and tentative about touching his new things, glancing at Jinki and Kibum every so often as if he’s worried they’re going to take it all away at a moment’s notice, the way he always seemed to gravitate towards the door whenever there’s adults in the room—

Jinki curses lowly and heads for the door, opening it. Kibum turns his head to him, silent question in his eyes. Taemin doesn’t stop shaking, but he does stop hitting his already banged forehead against the wall, eyes focusing intently on the now wide-open door.

“Taemin,” Jinki tries, his voice deep and soothing, with only the slightest hint of pain lacing it. “Taemin, baby, we’re not going to hurt you. Never. We promise. We’re not going to yell at you. We’re not. I promise, we’re not.” Taemin doesn’t seem convinced, but he does take a big breath, slowing his rocking to a more subdued pace.

On his sides, Kibum’s hands twitch with the urge to reach out. He clamps the desire down quickly. “Taemin, could you come over here, please?”

Taemin doesn’t react. Not for a very long time. Seconds tick by, turning into minutes that run irrationally slow. It feels like an eternity later that Taemin finally crawls to them, movement slow and jerky, almost lethargic. Kibum slowly reaches out with his hands, only to retract them again when Taemin flinches at the sight of them. Next to him, Jinki lets out a shaky breath.

“Taemin,” Jinki begins, watching as the boy pushes himself into a squat in front of them, still shaking slightly. “Are you hungry?” he asks, tentatively. The question takes some time to register, but when it does, Taemin’s stance relaxes a little bit, and he nods.

“Let’s go, baby,” Kibum urges, slowly rising from his crouched position. “Let’s go eat.”

They wait another five long minutes before Taemin finally, finally stands to follow them out.

*

Unfortunately, that episode is the first of many.

Taemin’s behaviors turn out to be highly volatile and utterly unpredictable. One moment he would be perfectly content in Kibum or Jinki’s arms, and the next he would be terrified out of his wits and refuses to get anywhere near them. He would often grab some food from the table and hide them away, not saying anything when Jinki finally finds his ‘stash’ (in the corner of his room, right behind his tent) but so obviously trying to hold back tears when Jinki and Kibum take the rotten food out and throw them away. He also often sleeps on the floor, on just outside his tent, curling up into a ball and sucking his thumb; he would only sleep on the bed if either Kibum or Jinki tell him, specifically, that he’s allowed to sleep on his bed until morning. But the hardest of all, for Jinki and Kibum, are the tantrums.

Taemin would often throw tantrums when either of his parents is busy. He would cry, scream, kick things, hit himself, bangs his head on hard surfaces, break things, throw his food on the floor, or toss his toys down the toilet when he feels that Kibum or Jinki doesn’t pay attention to him, or when he knows they have to leave. It’s scary and heartbreaking to watch as the boy seems to be trying to contain his emotions—pent-up anger, fear, disappointment, more fear—and eventually take them out on himself when he failed.

They feel completely, utterly helpless, especially as their therapist suggest that they should not indulge him with attention when he’s throwing tantrums, lest he deduced that tantrums would get him what he wanted. No, they’re asked to discipline him when he’s raging and shower him with attention after he calms down, and Kibum, after the ninth time that week that he had to watch his son wail inconsolably at the sight of him leaving for work, could not take it anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Kibum chokes out, already turning away from where Taemin is throwing his toys all over the room. Jinki, too, is watching, and he turns to look at his husband. “Jin, I can’t—I can’t do this.”

“Go to our bedroom.” Jinki’s hand ghosts over his forearm, gentle and fleeting. “I’ve got him.”

Kibum nods and walks out, and as soon as he does so, Taemin stops.

He just stops.

Jinki stares at him. Taemin stares back, eyes wide.

“Papa?” he calls out, tiny voice cracking just a little. “Papa where?” he asks, crawling to Jinki and clutching his pants, desperation painted clear on his young face. “Where Papa, please.” He tugs on Jinki’s pants, lips wobbling just a little. Jinki’s gut shrivels with guilt.

“Papa’s not going anywhere, baby,” he tells Taemin, though he highly doubts the boy would believe him that easily. Taemin doesn’t look away. “Let’s clean up your room so Papa will come back, okay?”

For the first time since he’s brought home, determination shines in Taemin’s eyes. He nods and immediately sets to work. Taking as many of the toys he had thrown about as he could into his skinny arms, he dumps them back into the box in the corner of the room. Then, with Jinki’s help, he tugs on the bedsheets and tucks the corners properly under the mattress. Next, he moves to where he had kicked the bin over and puts all the used tissues and papers scattered all over the floor back into the bin. Once done, he turns back to Jinki.

”I want Papa? Please?” he gestures at the room, eyes wide and pleading. “I clean. For Papa. Please?”

Jinki feels the now-familiar tugging on his heartstrings and swallowed against the tears that had threatened to spill. What he’s feeling at that moment is, quite possibly, the most complicated string of emotions he has ever experienced. He feels proud and dismayed, tired and determined, angry and overjoyed, but most of all, he feels a surge of love so fierce he thinks he might burst from it.

“Let’s go get Papa,” he holds out a hand to Taemin, who, after a second of hesitation, takes it in his own, holding on tight.

And as they walk hand-in-hand to where Kibum is, Jinki can’t help the smile that stretches across his face: they’ll be just fine.

*

After that, things get a little easier. Taemin still has his moments of withdrawal, and he still throws tantrum pretty often, but after that initial compromise he had with Jinki, they seem to be reaching some sort of understanding.

Kibum spends a full hour consulting with Taemin’s psychiatrist, and steps out of the office feeling assured that perhaps they, finally, have found exactly what Taemin needed: a purpose. One night, a week after The Tantrum (as Jinki likes to refer to that blasted morning), Kibum finally talks to Jinki about everything he knows; his own findings, the phonecalls with Jinki’s mother, the psychiatrist’s reassurance. By the end of it, Jinki is silent for a long time.

“Purpose,” he repeats, scratching the side of his jaw, where the prickly stubble has begun to appear. Kibum wonders, absently, whether his husband would look good with a beard. He tosses the thought aside when Jinki speaks again. “And validation, you said? Does he even understand what that is?”

“He doesn’t need to. Think about it—he likes it when he earns stuff instead of just receiving it. Remember when he helped me bake a cake?” Kibum taps Jinki’s thigh excitedly. Jinki nods, signaling him to keep going. “Well, I was practically ordering him around, but he didn’t complain once. He was practically bouncing by the end of it, too. I think he likes to be rewarded.”

“Every child likes to be rewarded,” Jinki raises an eyebrow, not getting the picture Kibum is trying to paint.

“No, I mean, rewarded for his own work. He needs to be rewarded for something he did. He likes getting recognized for what he did well. Remember how he didn’t throw a tantrum for a full day because you roped him into helping you fix your bike? And then that one time we put the picture he drew up on the fridge, remember? You told him to eat his veggies that night at dinner, and he didn’t even hesitate,” Kibum’s tapping gradually increases in frequency and intensity, but Jinki hardly notices; too busy connecting the dots Kibum has pointed out for him.

“That… okay, I see what you’re getting at,” Jinki frowns thoughtfully. “But I don’t see how it’s relevant to The Tantrum situation. He was simply… scared that you’d leave him, no?” he blinks when Kibum bounces on where he sits, pulling his crossed legs closer to his body.

“What if it wasn’t as simple as that? Look, we tried leaving the room when he’s throwing tantrums before, right?” Kibum questions him, slowing his speaking so Jinki would have more time to process his words. Jinki nods, feeling like a slow child. “And what happened then?”

“He became… wary. Once we came back, I mean. Like… he didn’t trust us. Like we’re doing it to test him or something,” he supplies, still not seeing where Kibum is going with this.

“Precisely. But that morning, you told him to do something so I’ll come back, right?” Jinki nods again, and Kibum railroads right ahead. “So, I think the difference is this: he thinks of our presence—especially when he wants us around—as a form of reward. Therefore, when we step out during his tantrum, it’s a punishment, right? But then we came back, just like that, even though he hadn’t stopped. So he didn’t trust us to not leave again, because he felt like he hadn’t earned it. He didn’t feel like he deserved a reward.”

“So seeing you again… that was reward for cleaning his room? And… okay, and stopping his tantrum, I’d assume,” Jinki says cautiously, eyeing Kibum with some degree of apprehension as the latter nods eagerly. “That doesn’t explain the abrupt change in reaction. Normally, when we step out, he’d just go on with his tantrums, anyway.”

Kibum thinks this over, stumped. “You’re right,” he mumbles, mind working a mile a minute. Jinki stares at his direction, but his eyes are glazed, unfocused. Another round of silence settles upon them as they think over what they might have done differently that day.

“He heard you,” Jinki pipes suddenly, perking up. Kibum turns to him with a questioning frown. “You said—you said you ‘can’t do this anymore’ and walked out. Maybe he heard you. I think he did, and he understood that it meant something really bad, and he wanted to make it better.”

“So he’d do anything to get me to not leave,” Kibum follows, realization dawning on him slowly. “Yeah, that—that makes sense,” he nods, eyes still unfocused. He bites on his already chipped fingernail, pulling his hand away when Jinki takes it out of between his lips. “It’s all assumption, though.”

“Of course,” Jinki agrees easily, shrugging a shoulder. “Everything is. We can’t just tell Taemin to pour his heart out in the form of coherent sentences. He’s barely four, Kibum,” Jinki deadpans, looking at Kibum with a mock-serious frown. Kibum laughs.

“Shut up, I know that. I mean…,” he trails off, resuming his tapping on Jinki’s thigh. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, I think we’ve found a pretty solid solution.”

“You’re saying we should just order him around?” Jinki grins, wide and wicked. “I mean, I can work with that. You’ve been nagging me to do more chores, anyway, right?”

Kibum laughs again, pushing Jinki’s face with his palm. “You shit, he’s four! You are not using him as a mini maid.”

Jinki kisses the hand and licks it wetly. Kibum screeches and pulls his hand away, glaring at his grinning husband. “We’ve got a natural hardworker in our hands, don’t we?” Jinki smiles, putting an arm around Kibum’s shoulders to pull him closer.

“Yeah,” Kibum chuckles, letting his forehead fall against Jinki’s shoulder. “Yeah, we really do.”

*

It takes another trimester of adjustments until Kibum and Jinki are able to confidently declare that they’ve made progress. By the time Taemin’s fourth birthday rolled around, both of them can confidently say that their son is now a buzzing little angel.

Taemin’s tantrums now resemble a normal child’s; getting fewer and further in between. He rarely flinches around Kibum, Jinki, and (on rarer occasions) his grandparents or visiting neighbors, even when they initiate physical contact. He almost never sleeps on the floor or hoards his food anymore, except on particularly bad days when either Jinki or Kibum had had a horrible day at work and accidentally snap at him or each other.

Even at times like the latter, Taemin has grown brave enough to approach them instead of pulling away completely. His bravery had saved Kibum from succumbing into a major breakdown when he unwittingly snapped at Taemin for refusing to go to bed. Kibum had left the room, then, and came back two hours later, only to find his son curled up on the floor, right next to his tent, clutching the duvet Kibum bought him during one of their shopping trips. Kibum had nearly cried himself into oblivion when Taemin woke up, crawled to him, and told him that he was sorry and begged him not to leave.

After that, both Kibum and Jinki decide to take up anger management classes, and thus, their Sunday morning family meditation tradition is born.

The day of Taemin’s birthday falls on a Saturday, and despite Kibum insisting that they keep it small, he still manages to rope both his husband and his son into slaving themselves over cakes and cupcakes and decorations. Jinki sulks his way through decorating 10 cupcakes before moving to blowing the balloons instead, while Taemin happily plops frosting onto his cupcakes, sprinkle some pearl sugar, and call it a day. Kibum beams at him and takes a Polaroid photo of Taemin and his creations.

“Mine’s better ‘an Daddy’s,” he announces once Kibum puts the camera away, looking very proud of himself. Kibum looks at the thin layer of frosting and carelessly-stuck chocolate coins (with Taemin’s initials on it, of course) on Jinki’s half of the cupcakes, then takes in the big glops of icing sugar and generous amount of sprinkles and sugar pearls on Taemin’s. He nods.

“Absolutely. You’re definitely the star and the winner here, sweetie,” Kibum takes one of Taemin’s cupcakes and bites into it. He hums exaggeratedly, looking down at the beaming ball of sunshine his son has turned into after the string of praises. “Now go bother Daddy and tell him to work faster. Your Grandparents will be here in an hour,” he pats Taemin’s bum, sending the boy off with record speed towards the living room.

He hears Taemin’s tiny voice telling Jinki to “Quick, quick, Daddy!” and chuckles at Jinki’s half-amused, half-annoyed reply of “I don’t need two of you bossing me around.”, to which Taemin, of course, counters with a stubborn “Quick quick, Daddy.” because he’s a little man on a mission.

Kibum wonders if it’s possible to physically explode from pride and overwhelming affection.

Finally, with no little amount of flourish, he manages to finish the last of the decoration on the actual birthday cake and stores it in the fridge. He pauses once he closes the fridge door, eyes zeroing on the picture of Taemin he had put up there; the one he took just two days after they brought Taemin home. Kibum takes in the sight of that skinny, starving, terrified little boy, and his heart swells a million times bigger as he sticks the most recent photo he took next to it; the one of a healthy, beaming, happy little boy with the evidence of his hard work.

Staring at the photos, he couldn’t help but think back over the last six months; of the colors Taemin had brought into their lives. He thinks of the hardship and the joys. He thinks of all the times he was close to giving up and the times he felt so much love for his son that he broke down to tears. He thinks of the times he felt like passing out under the weight of millions of new responsibilities and the times he felt the true contentment and joy as he held his sleeping son in his arms. He thinks of his family; of his loving husband and his beautiful son, and he knows, they’ll be just fine.

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> An old draft I played around with. Hope it wasn't too rusty. Please tell me what you think! xo


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